by C. B. Hanley
Edwin looked at Martin and felt he had to take back charge of the situation. He opened his mouth.
Sinnulph hadn’t finished. ‘He never speaks of his past life – well, he couldn’t, could he – but sometimes, just sometimes, I wonder what stories he must have, what tales of kings and popes, battles and deeds, of the treasures of the East. He could probably tell stories every night for a month if he wanted to.’
Now that started Edwin’s mind off a new and different path. ‘Treasure? What sort of treasure?’
The lay brother shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Nothing particular. I just heard there was lots of treasure out in the East. I heard tell that the crusaders came back with some wonderful things. Gold and jewels and silk and suchlike.’
Edwin sat in silence. Martin still looked dumbstruck and also said nothing.
Brother Sinnulph looked from one to the other. ‘So … if you’ve finished talking to me, I’ll get back to my work, shall I? And send one of the other brothers to talk to you?’
Edwin recovered himself. ‘Yes, thank you. That would be kind.’
He spent an hour or so talking to the other brothers but gained little of interest. Martin sat in stony silence throughout and Edwin wondered what in the Lord’s name could be wrong with him. Eventually he sent the final lay brother out and leaned over to whisper. ‘It must be nearly time for Brother Eugenius to arrive. Can you go out and wait for him? I don’t want Brother Sinnulph to get the chance to talk to him first.’
Martin roused himself. ‘What? Oh, yes, of course. I’ll bring him straight in, and I’ll give you a nod or a shake of my head to let you know if he was the one I saw here last time.’
Edwin wasn’t waiting long before the doorway darkened and a monk stepped in. Because he had the sunlight behind him Edwin couldn’t immediately see his face, but he could see that behind him Martin, a head taller, was nodding vigorously. So this was the man that Martin thought had been acting suspiciously with Brother Sinnulph.
The monk came further into the hall and was illuminated by light from one of the windows. Edwin saw his face, and suddenly several things fell into place. He stood to greet him.
‘Brother Eugenius. I didn’t realise your duties involved coming out here as well as assisting Brother Helias in the cellarer’s office.’
The monk looked slightly bewildered. And maybe a little nervous?
Edwin bade him sit. ‘Please, Brother, just a few questions before we leave you to get on with your duties.’
Brother Eugenius perched uncomfortably on the very edge of the bench. ‘Yes?’
‘Why are you and Brother Sinnulph stealing from the abbey?’
‘What?’ The monk tried to jump out of his seat but Martin’s hand on his shoulder pushed him back down.
‘I believe you heard me, Brother.’
The monk’s face went red and sweat broke out on his forehead. ‘I – er, I …’ He twisted the sleeves of his habit in his hand but did not deny the accusation.
‘He did it because I asked him to.’ The voice was Sinnulph’s as he entered the hall from outside. He sighed and sat down on the bench next to Brother Eugenius. ‘We may as well tell him all, Brother, for he clearly knows some of it anyway.’ He looked directly at Edwin. ‘And if he truly is Godric Weaver’s son, he’ll listen to us.’
Brother Eugenius was almost in tears. ‘It was out of charity … I didn’t mean … oh, what will Father Abbot say?’
Edwin turned to Sinnulph. ‘Perhaps you’d better tell me.’
The lay brother spread his arms. ‘You heard me say I once had brothers. Not any more – they all died. And my sister’s husband too, leaving her with four children and nobody to look after them. And I’ve taken my vows so I couldn’t go back. What was she to do?’
‘That’s no exc—’ Edwin waved Martin into silence.
‘Your sister and her children were hungry.’
‘Yes. The oldest boy is about twelve, so he couldn’t do a man’s full day at work. The holding got taken off them and they had to labour where they could to earn food.’
Edwin nodded. ‘You felt responsible.’
‘I did. And on top of that we had thieves, outlaws, around here earlier this year and they stole some of the stores.’
Edwin winced as he remembered his own dealings with the band of men who had terrorised the area for some weeks. ‘I know. They’ve all been caught now, and hanged.’
‘So I heard. But that didn’t get the people back what they stole, and Lord Richard wasn’t too sympathetic – said everyone still had to work in his fields and pay his rents regardless.’
Perhaps Sir Geoffrey ought to hear of this, for Lord Richard held his land from the earl, didn’t he? Edwin had better check. It made no sense, even for a noble, to allow the villeins and workers to starve, for who would till his fields the following year? The family near Conisbrough who had suffered the most from the outlaws had been sent home with food and supplies when they came to break the news. He felt himself sympathising with Sinnulph, but he had to harden his heart to find out the truth.
‘So what did you do?’
Sinnulph looked at Brother Eugenius and patted him on the shoulder. ‘My sister’s boy came here one day to tell me all. To start with I just gave him my food, off my plate, for I reckoned that was fairly mine to give. But how far was that going to go among five of them? So I took more bread, more vegetables, some grain, and handed them over.’ His voice became weighted with guilt. ‘I mean, here I was surrounded by good food, and how I could eat my two meals a day while she starved? It’s not like she could take orders and join the abbey to do the same – or the children – so I did what I could.’
Brother Eugenius now broke in. ‘I started to notice very small discrepancies in the accounts, of what we should have compared with what we actually had. I asked Brother Sinnulph about it and he confessed all. I should have put a stop to it – I should have —’
‘You should have what, Brother? Allowed my sister to starve? And her children too?’ Sinnulph turned to Edwin and his voice became urgent. ‘The fault is mine, and mine alone. Brother Eugenius is young, he didn’t know what to do and I persuaded him to keep quiet about it.’
‘You threatened him?’
Sinnulph opened his mouth to deny it but then changed his mind. ‘Yes. Yes, I threatened him. So no blame can attach to him.’
‘He did not threaten me.’ Brother Eugenius’s voice was resigned. ‘He is right that he persuaded me that it was the only way to save them, but he did not threaten me, and I will not have him confess to a sin he has not committed. I should have gone straight to Father Abbot, but I did not, and that I must confess.’
‘So, when I saw you coming out of the cellarer’s office last night, with a bag and a piece of parchment in your hand …?’
Brother Eugenius looked shocked. ‘You saw me? And I thought I had been so … well, yes. Mea culpa. Obviously the stores at the abbey are in much greater quantity, so I thought I could make up what was missing here from there, and then rewrite my accounts before Brother Helias saw them.’ He hung his head.
Edwin waited for the rest, but when it was not forthcoming he prodded further. ‘And the wool?’
Brother Eugenius and Sinnulph exchanged a puzzled glance before the lay brother spoke. ‘What wool?’
‘The wool ledgers. Have you not been falsifying them?’
They both looked so utterly horrified that Edwin couldn’t believe they were acting.
Brother Eugenius managed to splutter out a few words. ‘Falsify the ledgers? Are you mad? Why, that would be …’ He tailed off into silence at the enormity of the thought.
Edwin was confused now. ‘When Martin was here the other day and he mentioned Brother Alexander, he said you both looked worried.’
Sinnulph replied. ‘Yes, but we were worried that he’d find out that a few bits of bread had gone missing, and he’d make us stop and my sister would starve. We would never tamper with the wool accounts.’ His eyes o
pened wide as he grasped the severity of the implication. ‘You … you thought we were falsifying the wool ledgers, to – what, to keep the money? And, dear Lord, you thought we might have killed Brother Alexander to stop him finding out?’ He sagged back on the bench in shock.
Brother Eugenius had turned completely white. ‘Dear Lord.’ He crossed himself. ‘I see now how committing one sin can lead to the suspicion of other sins. But we did not kill – I mean, the idea is impossible – how could we – dear Lord.’
This was not quite going the way Edwin had expected, but he pressed on. ‘So, just to be clear. Did you, either of you, tear out some pages from a wool ledger and throw them in the beck at the abbey?’
They both looked totally confused and were shaking their heads. ‘I did no such thing,’ answered Sinnulph, ‘and I’m sure Brother Eugenius didn’t either.’
The monk shook his head. ‘I also did not.’
There was silence for a moment. Edwin felt that everyone was looking at him. He needed to think fast. ‘Right. This is what we are going to do. The two of you must, must, confess everything to the lord abbot. I will give you a day to do this, and if you have not told him by noon tomorrow then I will tell him myself. And I’m sure you realise it will sound better coming from you.’
They nodded.
‘You must accept whatever punishment he metes out.’
They nodded again.
‘You, Brother Eugenius, will also make a confession to Brother Helias. I have no doubt that he will eventually find something wrong with the accounts, and if you tell him before that happens then you will save him both from worry and from the suspicion that something much worse has happened.’
‘Yes. I will do this. And I deserve whatever punishment comes my way.’
Sinnulph started to speak but Edwin held up his hand. ‘And you will confess all of your part in this, and the influence you brought to bear on Brother Eugenius, but you will not exaggerate or confess to anything you have not done. The Lord will know, even if the abbot doesn’t. And,’ he drew a deep breath, ‘you will ask the abbot to release you from your vows so that you may go back to your family.’
‘He won’t do that, surely?’ Sinnulph asked in astonishment.
‘Try him. You may be surprised. If you explain that you wish to go back to the outside world so that you can provide for your sister and her children, he might see that as a different way of serving God. And he may even speak with Lord Richard about your family’s holding so that you have something to live off.’
Both of them were staring at him with desperate eyes, holding back tears and hanging on his every word. Another responsibility to add to the unbearable weight on his shoulders.
Edwin sighed. ‘But none of this gets me any nearer to finding out what happened to Brother Alexander. If you can, please say a prayer for me.’ He stood and beckoned Martin to follow him out, aware that he’d solved one problem only to create another.
Once Edwin felt the sunlight on his face he shook himself as if to get rid of the shadows. ‘You’ve been very quiet.’
Martin shrugged. ‘You seemed to be managing quite well without me.’
Edwin didn’t push it. ‘Anyway, you’ll be pleased to know we have another ride ahead of us.’
‘Where, back to the abbey?’
‘And beyond. We may not have solved the mystery of the wool ledger or of Brother Alexander’s death, but something Brother Sinnulph said has given me an idea on another subject. There’s someone we need to talk to.’
Martin wondered whether, if he prayed hard enough, a hole in the ground would appear so he could bury himself in it. The man he’d told to stay away from his horse, the man he’d shouted at, called a peasant, treated as simple, was a knight. And not just a knight but a crusader, a great warrior who had travelled to the East with the famous King Richard; he had fought battles against the Saracens and won glorious renown. What had he been thinking as Martin spoke, treating him like dirt? Oh dear Lord.
He wasn’t really paying attention to where they were going, so when he eventually looked up he found that they had gone past the abbey and its gatehouse and were now heading for the woods.
‘Where are we going?’
‘To see Anabilia, the hermit.’
‘Why?’
Edwin grinned, unusual for him these days. ‘You’ll see.’
‘All right. But stop here and we’ll dismount. If we’re going to go through all that undergrowth then we’ll be better off on foot and leading the horses.’
Martin watched as Edwin got down – he couldn’t really call it a dismount, not when he just pretty much fell off – and made sure the stirrups were shortened on both saddles. ‘Can you manage leading your own horse? If not then I’ll take both, but it might be easier going single file.’
‘I can manage. I’ll go slowly.’
They left the road and entered the forest. Martin stood uncertainly. ‘Can you remember the way?’
Edwin also looked doubtful. ‘Let me think. There was a little path which led off somewhere – is this it?’ He pushed aside some branches.
‘It could be. Yes, look – there’s a footprint in that patch of soft ground there.’ Martin placed his foot in the mark and it fitted perfectly. ‘It’s mine.’
They made their way through the undergrowth, stopping every so often to wonder whether this broken branch or that odd-shaped tree was a reminder that they had previously come this way. And then, quite suddenly, they found themselves in the clearing where the woman lived. The hovel was still there, the garden was still there, even the goat was still there, but the hermit was nowhere to be seen.
Martin took both sets of reins and tied them safely to a sturdy tree branch. He pointed to the roof of the dwelling. ‘Smoke. She can’t have gone far.’
‘I’ll try calling her. You stay there and try not to look too threatening.’
Martin stood and watched as Edwin put his head through the doorway and then went all round the hovel, calling Anabilia’s name. ‘We don’t want to hurt you or trouble you – I just need to ask you something. Something important.’
There was silence.
Edwin tried again. ‘I know that you didn’t kill Brother Alexander. You’re safe, but I really do need to talk to you.’
Martin was surprised. Did they know that? He didn’t, but who knew what was going on in Edwin’s mind?
‘About what?’ Martin’s head shot round as he heard the old woman’s voice, but he couldn’t for the life of him work out which direction it was coming from.
‘Please come out. We will not harm you, you have my word.’
‘Your word? What good is that to me?’ Martin put his hand on the hilt of his sword, still turning this way and that.
Edwin sighed and his face took on that sad look again. He made the sign of the cross in the air. ‘I swear on the soul of my father, in his grave these two months past, that we will not harm you. Please, come out so we can talk.’
Anabilia appeared from the undergrowth, much closer to Martin than he would have thought possible, making him jump. He forced himself to let go of his sword. She was an old woman, in the Lord’s name. What harm could she possibly do? But still he calculated the distance between them as she approached Edwin. If she tried to attack him, he could get there and stop her well before she could do any damage.
Edwin opened his arms wide. ‘Shall we sit?’
She folded hers. ‘No.’
‘Very well. I just have one question to ask you, and please, you must tell me the truth before God.’
She inclined her head. ‘Very well.’
‘Was it you who hid the monk’s habit in the cave?’
To say that Martin was thunderstruck would have been an understatement. How on earth had Edwin worked that out? His start of surprise had frightened the horses and he moved to calm them as he listened to the conversation in the clearing.
‘Yes.’
Edwin nodded. ‘I thought so.’
The woman’s curiosity had been aroused. ‘How did you know?’ Now she indicated the space outside her home and the two of them sat down. Martin circled around the edge of the clearing, but quietly so as not to alarm her. He wanted to hear this.
Edwin settled himself. ‘Earlier today someone pointed out that his sister could not join the abbey community. Because she is a woman, of course. Which led me to think of another woman who has dealings with the abbey, another woman who ranks herself in holiness along with the monks there … another woman who might have wanted to get inside the abbey buildings?’
She laughed, a dry, croaking sound. ‘You’re a sharp one, boy. So, why would I want to do that?’
‘I haven’t quite worked that part out yet. To see what it was like? To see if you really would want to live there if you were given the chance? Or … no —’ he snapped his fingers. ‘To save up the experience so you could offend them with it one day by letting them know that a woman had penetrated into their enclave?’
She was nodding. ‘Very good. Them with their holier-than-thou attitudes, just because they are men. There’s as much sin in there as there is in the outside world – they just hide it better and call it by different names.’
Edwin leaned forward. ‘What did you see?’
Anabilia also bent forward, so that her face was very close to Edwin’s. Martin tensed. ‘Nothing that I’m about to tell you.’ She sat back and Martin unclenched his fist.
Edwin appeared calm. ‘Very well. But let us speak of when and how you entered. You could not have been in one of the services, or at Chapter, because someone would have noticed you.’
‘That is true. I went in one afternoon while they were all at their labours. There are more of them milling around then, so I thought it would be easier.’
‘And what did you do?’
She shrugged. ‘Nothing, really. Just walked around, had a look at everything – oh, and I went in the choir of the church, where they don’t allow women at all, just so I could say I’d been there if I ever needed to. Then I left again.’
‘And the porter didn’t notice?’